


Clearing the Air

by Pixie (Ayiana)



Category: JAG
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-05
Updated: 2003-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayiana/pseuds/Pixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When I watched Shifting Sands, and heard the knock at the door at the end of the guitar scene, I expected it to be Mac. When it wasn't I wanted to scream. I decided to rewrite the rest of the scene my way. Here's how it went.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clearing the Air

The knock at the door startled Harm out of his reverie. He stopped playing and looked up.

"It's open," he called.

He started to stand up to greet his guest, but stopped when he saw who it was, dropping back to the chair in irritation.

"Come to rub salt in the wound?" he asked her.

Silent, she closed the door and came to stand across from him. Harm picked up his guitar and strummed a few experimental chords while he waited for her to speak. He was still furious with her for her behavior over the past week, and he'd be damned if he'd play the gracious host right now.

When Mac finally spoke, the sound of her gentle voice reminded him painfully of a time when they had been nearly inseparable, a time when he'd thought their friendship might develop into something deeper. He stiffened his spine, blocking out the memories and the warmth they generated, determined not to open himself up to more pain.

"I thought I'd check in with you. See if you know what you're going to do, since the admiral won't take you back, " she said.

"Do you care?" he asked bitterly, setting his guitar down and getting up to fix a drink. He didn't bother offering one to Mac, hoping that she would realize that she was unwanted and would leave that much sooner.

"I care," she said softly.

Harm glanced at her in disbelief. "After what you said to me in front of that hotel? You'll excuse me if I don't believe you."

"Look, I'm sorry, ok? Wrong time. Wrong place. I never should have said what I did."

"Are you trying to tell me you didn't mean it?"

"No," she answered. "I'm trying to tell you that I have a terrible sense of timing."

"You broad-sided me, you know," he said. "I gave up everything. Everything in my life that had meaning, to go down there after you. And you couldn't even be bothered to say a simple thank-you." He glared at her. "You sniped at me the entire time we were there, chased after Webb like some kind of bitch in heat…"

The sound of her slap echoed in the still apartment, and he stared at her for a minute before turning on his heel and stepping to the door. He opened it and turned to her angrily.

"I think you'd better leave," he said quietly.

She didn't move. "How dare you," she said, her tone low and menacing. "What gives you the right to say things like that to me?"

Harm closed the door, looking at her sadly. "I used to think our friendship could survive our honesty," he said. "Apparently, that's not true anymore."

That stopped her. She had no idea how to respond and her discomfort showed clearly in her eyes.

"What do you want me to say?" she asked. "Do you expect me to fall to my knees in gratitude because you came down there? I didn't ask you to come. Hell, the admiral ordered you not to go. You did this one all on your own, Flyboy. You resigned your commission. You flew all the way down there to hunt me down in the middle of the Chaco Boreal. I didn't ask you to do it, and I would have been fine if you had followed orders. I didn't need rescuing." She paused for breath. "At least then you would still have your job."

"Maybe," he said, "but then you just might be dead, too."

"You sure have a high opinion of yourself, don't you?" she threw at him. "You think everything depends on you, and without you the world would simply stop turning on its axis."

Harm shook his head in disbelief. "Are you remembering the same thing I am? Because I seem to remember showing up just as you were about to get up close and personal with a couple of battery cables. What would you have done if I hadn't been there on time?"

"I would've handled it."

Harm's response was a snort as he wheeled away from her. "That's the Mac we all know and love," he said. "Invincible Mac." He shook his head as he sat down again. She glared at him, but he ignored her and continued. "You've never been through it before, Mac. I have." He looked at her earnestly, ignoring her surprised gasp. "What I went through was different, but just as effective. I know what it's like, and I know they would have broken you. Maybe not right away, but it would have happened. And afterwards, they would have killed you. Did you really think I would just leave you there and let that happen?"

"It's what you should have done," she responded, determined to make him see her point. "Your career means everything to you. Everybody knows that. You've invested all of yourself in it, heart and soul. Yet, you gave it all up to fly down there and rescue me. It just doesn't make sense!"

"It makes sense to me," he answered softly, "and in the end, that's all that should matter. It's my life. My career. My choice." He paused, waiting to make sure he had her full attention before he continued. "You asked me once what I would be willing to give up for you. Do you remember?"

Mac jumped up and started pacing. "No way," she said. "There's no way you're pinning responsibility for this on me."

"I'm not 'pinning responsibility'. I'm just pointing out the facts."

It was Mac's turn to snort. "Facts?" she said incredulously, "When I asked you that question, I was referring to Renee. I would never ask you to give up your career for me, and you know it."

"Yes, I do know that," he answered, "but it turned out that my career was the price I had to pay. I paid it willingly, and I'd do it again." He continued to watch her steadily.

"Even after seeing me with Webb?" she asked.

Harm flinched at that. Why did she have to bring up Webb's name? They were getting somewhere for a minute, and then Mac had to go and throw that name out there like some kind of gauntlet. He turned away from her and picked up his guitar again, placing it gently in its case. He didn't want to talk about Webb. Just thinking about the man infuriated him.

Mac moved closer and touched his arm, but he flinched and pulled away from her, going past her to put his guitar away in the closet.

"Do you really hate him that much?" she asked, watching him close the door with just a touch too much force.

"Hate him?" he bit out. "What reason could I possibly have for hating him?" He glared at her. "Every time Webb gets near us, there's trouble. In the past, it's always been stuff that I could understand or excuse. Hell, I tend to find more than my share of trouble myself. I can't let it go this time, though. This time he went too far."

Harm went to the refrigerator and started pulling things out, needing something to do with his hands and realizing that he hadn't eaten since early that morning. He put the food on the counter and started filling a pot with water for pasta. As he set it on the stovetop and turned on the heat, he glanced at Mac. She was sitting on one of the barstools now, watching him as he moved about the kitchen.

"He went too far 'this time'?" she asked. "How is this time any different from the dozens of other times we've worked with him?"

"It's different because this time he almost got himself killed. And what's worse, he almost got you killed along with him. I can't excuse that, Mac. I couldn't care less how badly that man screws up his own life. It's his life to screw up. But he dragged you into it, and almost got you killed, and I can't forgive that." He looked at her. God, she was beautiful, and he wanted desperately to put things right between them, but he wasn't sure if he knew how.

Mac watched as he took out a cutting board and began dicing onions. Before she could say anything else, the phone rang. Harm wiped his hands on a towel before picking it up. As she listened unabashedly to his side of the conversation, she wondered what was going on. Who wanted to see him on Friday morning, and why?

"What was that all about?" she asked when he hung up. He had an odd look on his face.

"CIA," he answered, "Deputy Director Kershaw wants to see me."

"What?" she asked, "Why?"

"I don't know," Harm answered, going back to dicing his onion.

"Do you think they're going to offer you a job?" she asked, not sure she liked the idea.

"No idea," he answered, "but I'd be willing to consider it if they do. I've got to make a living somehow, and since I'm no longer wanted at JAG…" He trailed off, shoulders slumping as he scooped the onions into a pan and began to sauté them.

Mac came around the counter and put a hand on his arm, causing him to look at her with a question in his eyes.

"He'll take you back, Harm," she said. "He's just mad at you. You have to give him some time."

" Forget it, Mac. I'm moving on. You said in Paraguay that you like a guy who states his intentions and follows through. Well, that's what I'm doing. I'll start fresh, maybe with a job at the CIA. I'll let go of any dreams I may have harbored about us since you so graciously made it clear that "we" were never going to happen…Hell, maybe I'll even get a new apartment." He added some vegetables to the sizzling onion and turned to get some pasta from the cabinet.

"You can't mean that," she said softly. "You've worked so hard, for so long…"

"Yeah, and look what it got me." He added the pasta to the boiling water and set the timer. "I'm out of a job, my best friend has basically told me to get lost…"

"Sturgis?" she asked in surprise. "Why…?"

"No…you," he answered, stirring the vegetables and adding some spices.

"I did not!" she answered, ignoring the fact that he had just called her his best friend.

"Oh no? Then what would you call the way you treated me down there?" He glared at her. "Is that the way you treat a friend? Because it's not the way I learned it." He yanked a colander out of the cabinet, set it in the sink and drained the cooked pasta.

"You misunderstood all of it, didn't you," she said quietly.

"Misunderstood? What was there to misunderstand?" He pulled two plates out of the cabinet and began to dish up the pasta. "You were pretty damn clear the way I recall it."

"Harm, you don't understand."

"Explain it to me. Please." He moved to put the plates on the table, adding silverware and cloth napkins as he talked. He went back to the kitchen for glasses and a pitcher of ice water, brushing past her and trying to ignore the shiver of awareness that coursed through him as he did. Mac sat down at the table, automatically placing her napkin in her lap.

"He needed me," she said simply.

"Yes, I know, and that's all it takes for you to fall in love."

"I'm not in love with him."

"You're not? You could have fooled me. I saw the way you kissed him. I saw the way you acted with him in Paraguay, and I stood there and watched you while you two shared your little private chat in the hospital today. It sure looked like love to me."

"It wasn't, though." She took a bite of her pasta and savored it. Harm was a wonderful cook. "Look, I care for Clay. We went through a lot together, but I don't love him. I don't trust him enough to love him." She took a sip of water, and looked at him earnestly. "When we were down there, I asked you what you wanted from me, and you said something about operating instructions. Do you remember that?"

Harm nodded as he reached for the Parmesan cheese and sprinkled it on his pasta.

"O.K.. If you think back, you'll remember that I said that my needs are really very simple."

"So…?"

Mac set her fork down, and waited until she had Harm's full attention. It didn't take long.

"All I need is somebody who has the courage to tell me what he wants."

"That's simple? I've done everything but take out an ad in the Navy Times!"

"But you've never said the words…" Mac replied, still watching him steadily. "I need to hear the words."

"You haven't exactly been forthcoming yourself, you know," he said wryly. Mac had the grace to look abashed at that.

"I can't," she said softly. "If I said it first, I'd always wonder if you'd said it because you meant it or because you didn't want to hurt me."

"Well, then, I guess you were right. We never will be able to work things out between us."

Their simple meal finished, he took their plates to the kitchen and began to clean up. If, after all the years they had been friends, and all that they had been through together, they still couldn't say such simple words to each other, it really was time to move on. He opened the dishwasher and began to load their plates. Her soft touch on his arm stopped him, and he looked at her inquiringly. Time seemed to freeze for a moment as their eyes locked. Mac took a deep breath.

"I want you," she finally said. The words were so soft that Harm had to strain to hear them. Without taking his eyes off her, he reached behind him and turned off the water. He carefully set the plate he was holding on the counter, and dried his hands on a towel before finally facing her again.

"What did you say?" he asked. Mac swallowed nervously.

"You said that I'd never told you what I wanted." She lifted her chin, every inch the fighting Marine Harm knew and loved. She was taking a big risk, and she was terrified, but she wasn't about to let him know it. Harm loved her strength and pride, but he wasn't about to let her hide behind them. Because of her, his life had been a living hell for the past week. And, though he knew he was being cruel, he had a need to make her work for this. He nodded at her, but he didn't reach out. Not yet. It was still too soon.

"I want you," she said more firmly. "No. That's not the right word." She paused, searching for a better way to express her muddled thoughts. Harm desperately wanted to touch her. He wanted to take her in his arms and never let her go, but he knew he had to wait. He had to let Mac figure this out now. If he didn't they'd never be able to move ahead. Finally, she spoke.

"It's not a want, really. It's more that I need you. I need you there to celebrate with me when something goes well. I need to know that you're there when I fall. I need…my other half." She shrugged and began to back away from him, but Harm caught her shoulders, stopping her movement. Looking at him, she somehow found the courage to go on.

"We've been partners and friends for a long time, and I think you know me better than anyone. To be honest, that frightens me, and sometimes the fear makes me push you away. Hell, I have pushed you away. Many times. And each time I've done it, I've wished you would fight back. But you never did." She looked at him. "Why?"

Harm looked at her incredulously. Women were so damned confusing sometimes. If she hadn't wanted him to back off, why had she pushed in the first place?

"I didn't fight back because I didn't know you wanted me to." He answered. "There's an old saying. Perhaps you've heard it. It goes like this. 'If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it's yours. If it doesn't it never was.'" He took her hands in his, rubbing a thumb gently across the back of one of them. Her skin was unbelievably soft.

"So you see, I had to let you go. I had to see if you would come back to me." He said it softly, looking deeply into her eyes while he spoke.

Suddenly, and without conscious thought, Mac found herself in his arms. They closed around her, wrapping her in a snug cocoon of warmth and love, and Mac knew that she had finally found her way home. Her hands gentled a knot near his spine, and she nestled her head into the hollow of his shoulder, a space that seemed made just for her. She breathed in deeply, savoring the clean male scent that was so distinctly Harm, while she reveled at the gentle strength with which he held her and the steady beat of his heart against her cheek. After a long time, she looked up, her eyes misty.

"I'm back," she said, "And this time, I plan on staying."


End file.
